


Happy birthday, dear Harley!

by Georgethecat



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Death, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Paralyzation, Swearing, The Joker's a dickhead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-12
Updated: 2016-09-12
Packaged: 2018-08-14 14:36:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8017822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Georgethecat/pseuds/Georgethecat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The tale of how Harley's babies, Bud and Lou, came to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happy birthday, dear Harley!

She hoped this year he remembered. 

Last year, her Puddin’ forgot her birthday and life was glum after she left him. For three whole months, too, was she gone before he decided to give a damn. 

He’d had a lot of making up to do that time. Harley repaid him when she shot him in the left shoulder. He still had problems lifting with that shoulder even two years later. 

First thing in the morning — and she was an early riser, always so optimistic and gleeful for a new day — Harley plopped her naked ass on the wooden butcher block kitchen table, waiting for her beloved Mr. J to waken. 

After she stomped around, banging pots and pans, he _finally_ woke from his slumber. He less than enthusiastically found his darling Harlequin had covered three conspicuous locations of her body with whipping cream and strawberries. 

Harley, of course, was as pleased as punch to show off her “birthday” suit. “Mornin’ Puddin’!! Guess what day it is!!!!” 

It was a very lucky thing indeed her legs were as wide open as they happened to be because the Joker’s response was to toss a straight razor right between her legs, just millimetres from her hoo-ha. 

She yelped, scooting back from the blade. “Well, if I hada known that’s what you were thinkin’ for this morning, I woulda got my leather out…”

The Joker, her Clown Prince of Crime, the King of her Heart and whole wide world, walked right up to her until the tip of his nose was practically touching her own. 

“No one wants to eat that, Harl. Get your clothes on. We have places to be today.” His tone was darkly ominous as he turned his heel and left her sitting on the table all by herself. 

Harley’s heart sunk — had he truly forgotten again? She didn’t want to believe it. But he was in such an angry mood and she definitely didn’t want to get on her Puddin’s bad side on today of all days. 

Still, she took a little longer than usual cleaning herself up and putting her greasepaint and skintight jester costume on. He might have been in a _mood_ , but for Jigglypuff’s sake, it was _her_ birthday, after all! 

Puddin' was already sitting in the back of the car, arms crossed, sulking when she got out there. She thought he looked absolutely adorable, all pouty-lipped, but when she slipped in next to him, his vivid green eyes got a much more murderous glint to them. 

He held a hand up to push her face away just as she leaned in to plant kisses on his cheek. “Now really, Harl — this isn’t the time or place for your tired, old shenanigans.” 

She scrunched her mouth up and thought it kinda _was_ the time and place since they were all by their lonesomes in the back of the car that another attempt maybe wouldn’t be met with violence. Besides, it was her birthday! Really, maybe he just needed a little reminder. 

She rested a leg across his and scooched in closer once he dropped using his hand as a wall. “Oh Puddin’,” she breathed into his ear. “Don’tcha remember what day it is?”

“Of course I do! It’s a Tuesday and it’s the day we pick up my dry cleaning.” He gave a mirthful giggle.

The petite blonde smacked her boyfriend upside the back of his head with such fierceness his head clunked forward. His giggle got louder, turning into an outright laugh. 

“It’s my birthday, you jerk! You better not’ve forgotten!!!” 

“Oh, THAT!” The pale jester replied once his giggles had subsided. “Well, I was just getting to that, pop tart, but you so _rudely_ interrupted me! Since your birthday is ultimately about _you_ , and not _me_ , I’ve decided that we are going to do something _I_ want to do. That’s only fair, now, Harl and no pouting,” he continued as he smooshed his finger against her lips. “And _I_ want to go to the circus. And, since, by extension, you want to do everything I want to do, and I am here so graciously accompanying you, then you may believe in your little screwed up looney tune brain of yours that this is somehow about you. As you do.” He huffed a little as Harley processed what he had just told her. 

“You mean we’re goin’ to the CIRCUS!?!?!?! YIPPEEE! YAHOO!!!” Harley whooped and hollered as the Joker reached for and casually stuck his purple gun right between his lover’s eyes. 

“I know you’re excited, dollface, but if I have to hear your screeching voice in my ear again, I’ll have to shoot your brains out and then you wouldn’t be here to clean the car.” 

Harley playfully swatted the gun out of her face as she snuggled up to her fella, completely over the moon about the idea of going to the circus!! She hadn’t been there since she was little and the first thing she wanted to do was see the monkeys and then the lions and oh! the hyenas and then have some cotton candy and maybe some caramel corn and ride all the rides until she barfed. 

She quietly thought about all the things she was going to do at the circus until they reached Gotham’s harbour front. 

The boys (these two guys were Abott and Costello, super nice dudes, Harley remembered) opened the doors for them. Joker sauntered out of the car, his purple pinstripe suit still looking as fresh as if just returned from the cleaners. Harley, on the other hand, bounced out of the vehicle, full of chaotic energy. She cartwheeled over to the entrance. “Harbour Front Circus,” she read out as she then looked over at the ticket-taker in the booth. A teen boy was slumped in his seat, a macabre rictus grin plastered on his face, drool dribbling down his chin. 

“Awww. Guess he just didn’t get the joke, huh, Puddin’?” 

“How is it that after all these years you still can’t tell a good joke, Harl?” 

Harley paid the Joker’s comment no mind as she skipped off towards the animal cages. The majority of the workers appeared in the same terrifying manner as the teen boy: mindless souls with hideous smiles. She thought of them as just having a little sleepy-time while truly those unfortunate victims of the Joker’s laughing toxin were painfully paralyzed. 

But to Harley, this life was but a dream and this circus visit was one of those she wished would never end. She marvelled at the dancing bears and the blew kisses to everyone in the freak show. She devoured a pogo stick, a cone of violently pink cotton candy and a funnel cone, all made at gunpoint just for her. She shot pellet guns at three carnival workers and drove a very large mallet through a hot dog stand. They fucked for two hours in the Funhouse Hall of Mirrors. Afterwards, the Joker took another 45 minutes to preen himself while Harley explored the trapeze and the trampolines. 

When they finally met up again, the Clown Prince actually let his Harlequin loop her arm through his as he directed her towards the caged animals. They strolled up to one cage arm in arm, when the Joker tutted. “Well, now this is no good at all.” In the cage lie a dead hyena, its mouth unnaturally grinning. Joker put a finger to his chin and then turned to face one of his gang. “Say, Costello… did you feed the hyena the purple food or the green food?” 

Costello’s clown-painted face visibly drained of colour. The man looked like he couldn’t believe the Boss was actually talking to him, let alone addressing him by name. “Uh,” he stuttered, as he wasn’t even sure which one had been the right one. “The… purple food…” 

The balding man barely spurted out his next word as a bullet ripped through his forehead. His body slumped to the ground while the Joker slid his still smoking purple gun back into its holster. It really didn't matter what kind of food he'd fed the hyena. 

“Just can’t get good help these days. Welp,” he shrugged, peering into the cage at the deceased hyena. “Guess that chemical compound’s a dud. And I was really looking forward to a caper involving a ravenous hyena tearing apart ol' Battykins. Ah well! Back to the drawing board as all the great artists say. C’mon Harl, let’s go.” He began to turn around to leave, but Harley wasn’t ready just yet. 

“Wait a minute, Puddin’. I think I see something,” she said, pulling a bobby pin from her hair and picked the lock on the cage. She crawled into the small cage, pushing layers of hay and grass aside. “Aww, Puddin’….” She cooed sweetly, although the Joker hardly responded at all. He appeared rather engrossed in his finely manicured nails until Harley came out of the cage holding two very soft and very cuddly hyena pups. 

“Awww… can we keep them? Please? Pretty please?”

He sighed the sigh to end all sighs. It took him nearly 18 seconds and an adjustment of his bowtie before he replied: “No. I have enough to deal with just you alone.” 

Harley snuggled the pups into her neck, and looked pleadingly at her paramour. “But it’s my birthday.”

“And I’ve done more than enough for you, you selfish brat! Heavens to Murgatroid, Harl! You’re always wanting more, more, more! When is it ever enough for you?!” 

He touched his chest with the flourish of a great ~actor, but Harley persisted. “I promise I’ll walk them and I’ll take care of them and feed them and you won’t have to do a thing and I’ll train them to attack the Bat—“

“…Continue…”

“And all his Brats and all of his stupid friends—“

“…I’m considering…”

“And you can even add them to alla your genius master plans!” Her eyes beseeched him as she held the pups up to her cherubic face. 

“…Fine. You take care of them and keep them away from my things. …Happy birthday, Harley.” 

She squeed as she clutched the pups and leapt into his arms, the four of them squished together. 

“Now don’t ask for anything else, you greedy little imp,” he chided as he pinched her ass. Stretching up onto her very tip toes, she whispered into his ear. 

“Ah!” The fiendish clown’s face split into a devious grin. “Well, _that_ I can do.”

**Author's Note:**

> The Joker's a shithead. A whipped shithead, but a shithead nonetheless.


End file.
